


Happy New Year

by Wet_Lapras



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Emetophilia, Emetophobia, Hangover, Other, Vomiting, imagine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 00:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13558407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wet_Lapras/pseuds/Wet_Lapras
Summary: I wrote this just after new year, 2018. Only just got round to posting it.You wake up on New Year's day to your stomach punishing you for a night over overindulgence, but he doesn't judge you for it or mock you, he loves you.





	Happy New Year

Categories:

All sorts, hurt/comfort/romance/humor/emeto kink fluff?

Warnings: Vomit

Slight edits 3/1/18

(Disclaimer, sadly I do not own The Walking Dead or any of those awesome characters, I just write these for entertainment and fun purposes only)

You had a bit too much to drink last night, you said you wouldn’t, but you did.

Heck, this year could be your last, heck, in this dangerous new world the next hour could be your last, you didn’t care about the next day, only enjoying this moment.

The last thing you really remember is him lifting you up into his arms under the mistletoe and kissing you like a man possessed.

You begin to wake up slowly and a low, gruff voice asks ‘how you feelin’?’ ‘awful’ you reply, ‘absolutely awful’, and the gruff voice says ‘you had way too much last night, I told you but you never listen’ he sighed.

You slowly turn over and as you do you begin to feel weird and instinctively you slap your hand over your mouth. He quickly grabs the bowl he had prepared in advance, fully anticipating this moment and holds it under your chin.

You hang your head over the bowl for a few seconds as your mouth begins to fill with excess saliva which you spit into the bowl, oh god you hate being sick, so much so you begin to cry a little.

‘It’s okay sweetheart, just let it happen and you’ll feel better afterwards’ he says as his firm but gentle hand makes it’s way around your middle, you feel his callused fingers come to rest against the bare skin of your stomach. You take the bowl off him and his other hand quickly brushes the hair out of your face and settles on your forehead.

Then suddenly your poor stomach rumbles and a sour wave of vomit gushes up your throat and into the bowl.

You quickly pant for breath, hoping that was it, but nope, your stomach was hellbent on punishing you for your overindulgence last night.

You sit there shaking, this is horrible. He kisses the back of your neck, completely un-phased by the fact you’re being sick. ‘It’s okay, it’ll be over soon babes’.

A horribly long vomit burp rises up in your throat before another wave of hangover puke splashes into the bowl, then a bout of dry retches consume you before you finally slump into his arms and lay still against his chest. He hands you a glass of water, the first sip you wash round your mouth ans spit out, the next sip you dare to swallow.

He strokes his fingers through your hair as you hope that sip of water stays down, he doesn’t care that your misery is self inflicted, he never makes cruel jibes or takes the mickey, he loves you and takes care of you no matter what.

He just knows what to do in any and all situations that involve you. He’d gladly give his life for you. He carried you home last night and stayed awake to keep an eye on you while you sobered up.

You begin to relax, but suddenly you have to sit back up, grab the bowl and throw up a thin stream of vomit, you knew you wouldn’t keep that tiny sip of water down, you knew it. You’re shaking and crying now, your stomach is empty but you still feel really sick. 

You can both hear your upset stomach rumbling as he holds his hand there,he can feel it rumble too. He really does everything to try and make you feel even a tiny bit better.

You feel strangely hungry as throwing up, of course, leaves your stomach empty, but the mere thought of food puts you back on the brink of being sick.

You wash your mouth out again and even the taste of the water in your mouth makes you retch. His hand still around your upset stomach, stroking small circles there on your soft, downy skin. 

‘I should have stopped when you stopped, when you told me to!!!!, I shouldn’t have got that drunk! I am so sorry darling, I’m sorry….’ You begin to beat yourself up about it.

You wish you’d remembered your fear of vomiting before you drank that much!

‘Sweetie, come here, it’s okay, what’s done is done, you had a great night I promise. You’ll feel better later on, I promise you that too, just get some rest now’. You lay back in his arms again, ‘happy new year’ you say to him, your voice almost a whisper thanks to vomiting, ‘happy new year to you too (Y/N).

‘I love you so much (Y/N), I’d give anything for you, do anything for you, you know that right?’ he tells you as he holds you in his arms, his hand still resting on your sick stomach.

You feel yourself falling asleep, but before you let yourself drift off, you whisper ‘I love you too Daryl Dixon.

The end.


End file.
